Jet (Marked Men, #2)(59)

I tried not to wince when the music came blasting out of the speakers. It was so loud and so violent sounding, and I hated that it was what he related to. He turned it down with a shrug.

“Wolves in the Throne Room.”

“What kind of name is that for a band?”

He shot me a look out of the corner of his eye. “An awesome one.”

I snorted and settled back into the seat. We were never going to see eye to eye on musical preferences, just like I was never going to ask him to go line dancing. Plus, if he ever tried to drag me into a mosh pit, I was going to strangle him. It was a good thing we connected on so many other levels.

Cora was rambling something in the back and had flipped herself over, so that she was lying on her stomach with her face smashed into the leather seat. I jumped a little when one of Jet’s hands landed on my thigh, right where the hem of my short skirt had ridden up.

“You looked stressed out when you came back to the table. Is everything okay?”

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him all of it—Asa, Silas, and the whole ugly, sordid mess—but instead I put my hand over his and moved it higher on my leg.

“The bathroom was dirty, and I was surprised to see you. You’ve been really busy the last couple of days. I thought you would still be at your studio.”

His thumb brushed back and forth across soft skin and climbed even higher until I had to remind myself to breathe and that we weren’t alone.

“Yeah, I’m just working on getting things together.”

I was drunk, but not drunk enough not to know he was being purposefully vague. “Getting things together for what?”

He sighed and went from stroking to squeezing. I shivered a little and shifted in my seat, which gave him even better access to flesh that was rapidly getting wet and ready.

“You really want to get into this now?”

I blinked at him and narrowed my eyes in irritation. “Well, I was starting to wonder if you were going to say anything at all, or just ask me for a ride to the airport one day.”

His thumb hit the edge of my panties and for a second I forgot that I was working on getting pissed at him, because I saw stars.

“I’m going on tour for a couple of months.”

I sucked in a breath through my teeth when I felt him maneuver the lacy material out of his way. I wanted to peek back at Cora to make sure she was still out of it, but I was scared to move, afraid I would give away all the naughty things he was doing to me.

“Why is that so hush-hush? Don’t you go on tour all the time?”

He sighed again and I almost punched him, because he removed those questing fingers entirely. I snapped to attention when I saw that we were parked in front of the house. I was twisting around to help Cora out of the car, when she literally barreled over the back of the seat and scrambled across me to get out the door.

“I have to pee right now!”

She bolted for the front door so fast no one would have ever known she was close to comatose a second ago. I laughed and was going to follow her into the house, but Jet reached across me and pulled the door back closed. He turned the car off so that the radio went silent, and it was just me and him in the quiet cocoon of the front seat of his car.

“I’m going to Europe. We’re going with Artifice, so it’s kind of a big deal. I’ve never been gone for that long of a stretch before, or gone that far, because I was always so worried about what would happen to my mom. Now I have other reasons for being all torn up over it.”

“Because you’re worried that he might hit her again?”

“Come on, Ayd, you know that isn’t what I’m talking about.”

His dark eyes were even darker in the silence around us.

“Every day, I’m waiting for you to tell me it was fun, but you have better shit to do. I don’t even want to tell you what goes through my head when I think about telling you that I’m going to be on the road for three months.”

I bit down hard on my bottom lip. I braced one hand on his shoulder, and used that and the steering wheel to lever myself over him, so that I was straddling him in the driver’s seat. I put my hands on either side of his face and leaned down to kiss him. I didn’t want him to worry about me, about where my head would be, while he was gone. I wanted him to go on tour and do what he loved for once, just for himself, with none of his baggage. I slicked my tongue across his, played with the barbell in the center of it and let my teeth nip and bite at his bottom lip. I kissed him like he always kissed me, like he was the last guy on earth I would ever put my mouth on.

I ran my hands down his shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. “Are you going to sing angry anti–love songs to anyone else while you’re gone?”

He coughed out a laugh and moved his hands so that they were on my ass, where my skirt had risen up to an indecent level.

“No.”

“Are you going to find someone else to sing sappy old country songs to before bed?”

He stiffened because I had managed to get my hands between our bodies where we were pressed together so tightly and to snag the buckle on his belt. I wasn’t so sure about having enough room to maneuver with those tight-ass pants of his, but I was more than willing to give it the old college try.

“No, Ayd. I only have ever wanted to do that for you.”

He fell, hot and heavy into my hands and he must have been ready to move the show on the road, because I heard the sound of ripping fabric and felt the chilly night air hit bare skin where my lacy underwear no longer covered my backside.